


Campfire

by Reccea



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:31:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reccea/pseuds/Reccea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It reminds him of childhood vacations dressed in hiking boots, eating turkey sandwiches and drinking hot chocolate</p>
            </blockquote>





	Campfire

John prods the fire again, watching the logs collapse against each other and a few embers fly up into the night sky. It isn't too cold out, and the fire had been mostly for show, but John likes it. He likes the way it smells. It reminds him of childhood vacations dressed in hiking boots, eating turkey sandwiches and drinking hot chocolate.

The settlement is a good day and half out from the Stargate, a not always unsuccessful way of avoiding the Wraith, and John would have taken the puddlejumper but the settlement's tucked away in a small valley that Teyla had thought would be too difficult to navigate. (John is pretty sure it would have been just _fine_ , but what's done is done.) So, instead, they have tents, sleeping bags, and are essentially backpacking through Pegasus, once again.

John has first watch, so he's settled beside the fire, watching the skyline as Ronon heads for his tent. Teyla has second watch, so she's been inside her tent and probably fast asleep for well over an hour. Rodney's still sipping his hot chocolate, arms tucked close to his body, hands locked around the warm mug. John can see the steam out of the corner of his eye.

"You should get to sleep soon, McKay." Rodney has the last watch, because if he doesn't take first watch then it generally takes a threat from Ronon to get Rodney out from his warm sleeping bag and into the cool morning air.

"I'm enjoying my chocolate," Rodney says, in that same way he always does when he thinks John's being stupid. Which is more often than John likes.

John shakes his head. He sets the stick he was using for the fire to the side and says, "Sure, McKay."

Rodney doesn't seem intent on moving anytime soon and John doesn't actually mind. Even though he knows that Rodney's complaints will be almost unbearable come morning.

There aren't any real noises coming from the trees around them, just the occasional whistle of wind and the rustling of Ronon getting ready for bed. John misses the sound of waves and hum of his city but this is nice too, in a completely different way. It feels more intimate to him, strangely, if only because he can hear the sighs of other people in sleep. John doesn't really have the chance to just listen to his team breathe, but he thinks maybe he can hear Teyla, and that his chest is rising and falling to her steady rhythm.

"Are the mountains doing something I should be worried about?" Rodney says it quietly, for once mindful of his surroundings, and he leans in close to John as he speaks. His shoulder is warm against John's arm.

"What?" John tears his eyes from the mountain and looks at Rodney, at fire reflected in his pupils.

Rodney takes one hand away his mug and gestures out to the mountains in front of him. "You were staring so hard I was starting to feel a little concerned." Rodney isn't smiling but his voice says he should be.

John follows Rodney's hand as it sweeps in front of him, watches the fingers flutter to outline the large ink black shapes in the distance.

John smiles. "You ever been to Yosemite?" he asks, because he can see one outline in the bright moonlight that looks like Earth to him.

Rodney looked up from his mug and furrowed his brow. "Oh yes, because with my allergies my parents thought it would be a good idea to expose me to the elements."

John managed not to roll his eyes. "It's only exposure if you..." he shook his head. "Nevermind."

"You asked a stupid question," Rodney said between sips, "and I gave it the amount of consideration it deserved. But I have to wonder why you even thought of it."

John almost wants to say something rude, say it in a lazy way so it'll irritate Rodney on two fronts. But he's feeling a measure of peace that he doesn't get close to often and he's not quite willing to let it go yet.

So he decides on honesty instead.

"See that mountain over on the far right, at the edge of the range?" John points to the silhouette, jutting out into the valley. "It looks like Half Dome."

Rodney makes a face as he squints in the darkness. "I guess it does look cut in half," he says dubiously.

John smiles lopsidedly, the upturned corner of his mouth out of Rodney's view. "You have to have seen pictures, Rodney. It's a pretty famous mountain. They think a glacier came through and pushed the mountain range apart and Half Dome literally looks like it was cut right in half."

"As evidenced by the name," Rodney mutters. He set his mug down, empty now, and folds his hands together in front of the fire. "I think I've seen pictures. And I remember something about someone with your overly popular first name."

"John Muir," John says instantly. He'd gone hiking on part of the Muir trail once, and he remembers feeling secretly pleased at sharing his name. The way all ten years old do about that sort of thing.

"You know," Rodney says after a long moment, his voice taking on an almost amused edge. "Chances are it wasn't a glacier at all. Probably a Goauld mothership took out the other half in a training exercise."

John sighs and rubs his face. "Way to ruin a moment, McKay."

"Wait, wait." McKay looked at him. "Are we _bonding_?"

John just looks at the fire, good feeling fading fast to annoyance. "You should really get to bed, McKay."

"Well, excuse me, but you don't normally act like the bonding type, Colonel. I think a little skepticism on my part is perfectly natural." Rodney is looking right at him.

The thing about 'bonding', which John doesn't actually think is the correct term _anyway_ , is that you can't really talk about it. And really, stupid John, for even subconsciously thinking that would happen.

"Don't worry about it."

"If you think I'm going to give up and retreat then you have really not been paying attention to me at all."

Which, given how often Rodney talks non stop, is clearly not a possibility. John rubs his face.

Rodney folds his arms across his chest. "You've been to Yosemite." It's not a question, but definitely a prompt. There's a small wave of the hand to accompany it.

"We used to go camping sometimes, when my dad was on leave." John shouldn't feel as vulnerable as he does, just saying that.

"Huh." Rodney's brow furrows, making funny shadows across his face in the firelight. "And you went to Yosemite instead of Yellowstone, which has geysers and other explosive things. That's surprising."

John snorts. "My dad was stationed in Arizona for a few years. Yosemite was closer." Though, later on, after that next transfer, they'd gone to Yellowstone just before his mother had gotten ill.

"My parents couldn't be in the same car for twenty minutes without fighting so even going to a decent hotel was pushing family togetherness a little far," Rodney offers, his mouth tight.

John doesn't do the 'bonding' thing because he never knows what to say to things like that. His parents never fought, but then he doesn't remember them kissing really, either. It's not really something Sheppards talk about, as far as he knows. So John opens his mouth to try to offer up something, an apology maybe, but Rodney's quicker than he is.

"I used to watch disaster movies, the really awful Technicolor ones with volcanoes and earthquakes."

"And the blob?" John suggests.

"Possibly," Rodney admits, not looking the least ashamed. "But that was always my version of the great outdoors. Disaster and ugly death everywhere you turned."

John's version of the great outdoors is his father roasting marshmallows over a fire, and his mother teaching him gin rummy on the picnic table outside their tent. It's getting his first kiss in the shadow of Bridal Veil Falls from the girl at the next campsite over.

"It's not so bad," he says, grabbing the stick and poking at the fire again. "Once you get past the ticks and the bears, and the mountain lions."

"Oh nice, Colonel." Rodney makes a disgusted noise, but he doesn't move and it's possible that John leans a little to his right, so he can feel the warmth of Rodney next to him.

"There's always the hot chocolate," John says quietly. "And smores are kind of cool."

"Smores are the only reason I ever wanted to go to summer camp," Rodney says wistfully.

"I went to summer camp for the girls." John smiles.

"I didn't have to go to summer camp for that," Rodney shoots back.

John's smile grew a little. "Sure, McKay."

Rodney turns his head towards John but something catches his eye. "A falling star," he says, pointing to the sky up over Not-Half Dome.

John jerks his head over to look, surprised that Rodney would draw his attention to something like that. Surprised that Rodney would refer to the plummeting rock in such a pedestrian way. But there it is, a small light arcing down across the sky. "Make a wish," John says out of habit.

"I already did," Rodney says, voice so much softer than John expects. And when John looks at him Rodney has an unfamiliar smile on his face, more gentle and real than anything a ZPM garnered.

"I am a genius, after all," Rodney turns his head to look back at the fire.

"So you keep saying." John replies.

Rodney doesn't say anything for a long while, and all John can hear is the crackling of the fire and Ronon's deep breathing.

"The hot chocolate is nice," Rodney taps his mug with his foot. "I suppose that's a Great Outdoors staple?"

"Next time, I'll bring marshmallows," John says solemnly. He smiles at Rodney. "You know, you should really get some sleep."

Rodney holds his hands out, palms flat facing the fire. He says, "I'm good."


End file.
